Désiré Me 2

EVA

There are nights that pull you out of your ordinary life. Nights when the universe leans in and whispers: are you ready to tip over?

I was ready for nothing. Just to survive yet another social event, invisible in my too-tight black dress, my feet on fire, my back tense, the silver tray stuck to my palms like an elegant handcuff.

The Bellamonte Hotel sparkled like a jewel under the golden lights. Huge chandeliers. Thick carpets. Muted whispers from a world to which I did not belong. The guests? Arrogant bankers, women sparkling with diamonds, idle and perfumed heirs.

And me, a shadow server. A shadow with a badge and a fake smile.

I had learned to blend in. To disappear. Not to speak. Not to meet gazes. Just to circulate. Pour, fade away.

But that night, I couldn’t look away.

They entered silently, like specters too real to belong to this world.

Two men, two mirages, two silent storms in expensive suits.

The first had the mouth of an angel and the eyes of a demon. The other, the opposite.

Their resemblance was unsettling. Same chiseled jaw. Same icy gaze. Same aura of power. Yet something opposite vibrated between them. One was fire and the other, ice.

They moved with calculated slowness. As if they had all the time in the world. As if they knew that soon, the world would revolve around them.

And I could no longer breathe.

— Don’t you know them? Clara, another waitress, whispered as she leaned towards me without dropping her professional smile.

She disappeared towards another table.

And I remained frozen.

I felt their gaze before I met it. A burn in my neck. A tension in the air, almost electric.

Then they looked at me.

And everything froze.

The first, Sasha, stepped towards me. He had the elegance of a feline, precise, supple. An obsidian gaze, composed, calculating.

— What’s your name?

His voice was deep, low, almost a caress in the din of the room.

— Eva, I said in a voice rougher than I would have liked.

— Pretty. And true, he added, as if he had just read my soul.

He took a glass from my tray, brushing my fingers. That simple contact felt like an electric shock. A chilling shiver ran down my spine.

Then the other twin approached, Niko. More raw, more cutting. He stopped a few inches from me and whispered something in his brother's ear. His eyes never left me, intense, probing.

— She's a virgin. I can sense it. She’s not hiding it well.

I turned pale. My heart raced. A dull, visceral fear. But… also a strange, shameful warmth in my belly. As if his words had ignited something I had never dared to name.

— Is it true? Sasha asked, calmly, almost tenderly.

I didn’t answer. I pressed my lips together. I wanted to look away. But their eyes had trapped me.

He then extended a black envelope, elegant, thick. Inside, something heavy.

— Take it. Read it tonight. If you’re curious.

I didn’t move.

— And why would I? What if I don’t? I murmured.

— Then you’ll go home. You’ll return to your little life. You’ll forget everything. But one day, you’ll ask yourself: what if I had dared?

They left. Without insisting. As if they already knew.

And the air around me became warm again, harmless. But nothing tasted the same.

At home, past midnight.

The envelope on the table seemed to burn my gaze.

It took me a while to open it. I hesitated. Trembled. Prayed, perhaps.

But I did it.

Inside: a check.

And a handwritten letter, written in black ink as cold as it was elegant.

“We want you. Not for a night.

I stayed there, for a long time, breathless, my hands sweaty.

It wasn’t just indecent.

I thought of my empty bank account. My life on hold. My body, never touched, never explored. My desire to feel something other than fear, fatigue, emptiness.

And into that emptiness, they had entered.

With their fiery gazes. Their troubling promise. Their immoral proposal.

And me, the good girl. The transparent girl. The virgin girl.

I found myself wanting to say yes.